The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(10)

“I shall consult with his Lordship and Mrs. Cleanknockers as to the schedule.” I was feeling a bit bereft, it must have shown, because Mr. Steedstiff attempted to reassure me. “You seem intelligent, if a bit stubborn. With a studious approach, I am confident your deficiencies will be remedied in short order.” My eyes darted to the canes. “Does that studious approach include caning, sir?” He crossed his arms. “I find red lines to be an indecent to retention of pertinent facts.” I nodded and boldly met his stern gaze. “And other methods of training, are they inducements as well?”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(9)

Discretely adjusting his falls, Mr. Steedstiff dismissed the girls to their rooms. He shuffled my test papers then tapped them into a neat stack. “You seem to have a good grasp of the English language, Ruby, but you seem to be lacking in more basic areas. Were you never schooled?” I clasped my hands tightly. “My mother needed me at home, sir, once I turned ten. I looked after neighbor’s children so they, and my mother, could work. I like to read,” I added hopefully. “You have much to learn, Ruby, in a short time. It will take utmost dedication.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(8)

Mr. Steedstiff spent most of the hour reviewing my completed primers. He frowned and sighed frequently. My spirits sank lower with each raised eyebrow or shake of the head. At quarter after nine, he whispered in Ann’s ear. She fairly bounced off her chair with a grin and disappeared into an anteroom. He followed shortly and firmly closed the door. Lily and Sara exchanged smirks but kept working through their lessons. As the clocks chimed half past, Ann reemerged, preening as a cat in the creamery. Her tongue swiped the corner of her mouth and she daintily licked her fingertips.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(7)

Lily, Sara and Ann correctly answered several questions each, but all failed at least one. Each girl in turn went to the coatrack and selected a cane. Presenting it across both palms to Mr. Steedstiff, once he agreed with her choice and took the implement, she bent over and grasped her ankles. The shortness of our uniforms meant the hem lifted to expose the lower half of the nude buttocks. Sara received two strokes, Ann one, and poor Lilly, four hard and fast red welts on her plump cheeks. After the punishments was quiet study time for the last hour.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Flashback Friday: “What is the perfect bottom type?”

This week’s Flashback Friday, originally posted, October 10th, 2009.

Theresa handed me a flyer. “I think you need this, Clara.”
She was my best friend, and I’d known her since grade school, but we hadn’t seen each other since the wedding two years ago. Now spending the week at our house, I’d thought she was having a great time. I read the flyer in shock.

Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-xxx-xxxx

“What’s this?”
She patted my back gently. “I know you’re in denial, Clara. I heard what that brute of your husband did to you last night. I could hear you screaming and begging, but he didn’t stop! I was about to call the police but I wanted to talk to you first.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. Theresa looked hurt and confused when I crumpled up the flyer and tossed it away.
“Thanks for the concern, but Kurt doesn’t abuse me. He was only spanking me last night.”
“SPANKING! You’re husband SPANKS you? That… that is barbaric!”

I spent the next several hours explaining our marriage and the rules I followed with the consequences for misbehavior. Theresa grew more agitated with every detail until I was afraid she would pack up and leave. Luckily, Kurt came home unexpectedly early and walked in on her strident denunciation of him. Not even pausing for breath, she laid into my husband calling him ‘wife-beater’ and ‘misogynist asshole’ among the nicest oaths.

“Are you finished, Theresa?”
“NO!”
“Well, what my wife and I do in the privacy of our home and marriage in none of your concern. I appreciate your loyalty to my wife and I realize you’ve known her for a long time. But that knowledge should be with the understanding that Clara is a strong woman and would never tolerate abuse from me.”
“It’s barbaric, Kurt! How can you even think of spanking your wife?”

Kurt sat down on the couch, patted his lap and I immediately lay across his knees in the very comforting position. Before Theresa could even leave the room, Kurt flipped up my skirt, tugged down my panties and gave me a very firm and very fast hand spanking on my still sore bottom. When he finished—for now—he glanced up at the slack-jawed Theresa and said without a hint of irony, “I spank my wife because she has the perfect bottom type. It’s bare, and over my knees.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 6)

There were precious few carrots in the schoolroom, but many sticks. I cannot vouch for Miss Frothinglips’ technique in exhorting the male to academic prowess, but I can state unequivocally, that Mr. Steedstiff believed in the power of the rod: both rattan and priapic. While I struggled through the beginner’s tests, he conducted an oral examination of the previous lessons. The three little maids were perched on pert derrières behind desks. I was not yet subject to discipline, it was counterproductive Mrs. Cleanknockers had explained, but once a curriculum was established, I would be required to earn a passing grade.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Outlaw in leather

Haylee Anna Cummings had never outgrown her tomboy antics, but, by middle school, her fists had settled the issue of her name for good. After graduation, legally emancipated by age, the foster care system washed its hands. She straddled her motorcycle and lit out on a Wanderjahr. Her short hair ruffled, goggles over her eyes and a pistol in her saddlebag, she traveled the country, not so much searching, as simply living day-to-day. To paraphrase the sentiment—wine, women and song—she liked rough whiskey, rougher men and heavy metal.

By the time she turned twenty-one, the rear view mirror had gotten old, but she wasn’t ready to settle down into domestic bliss. Then, he crossed her path.

She first met Lance DuBois at the dive out on Highway 50 halfway to nowhere. Too seedy to be called a honky-tonk, Kribbs was so rundown, even the alkies stayed closer to town. The local bikers kept going rather than risk hepatitis—or worse—by setting boots inside the place. The scuttlebutt around Spar Creek was that the bar had been built on top of an ancient burial ground. Supposedly the spirits of dead shamans possessed those who dared drink too much firewater.

“Helloooo! Anybody here?”

The buzzing neon signs, of brands both famous and obscure, gave off less radiation than Haylee Anna’s scorched hormones when Lance ambled out from the back room.

“What’s your poison?”
“A hard cock. What’s yours?”
“A paddle.”
“Good thing I’m wearing jeans.”
“Bare bottom only, lady.”
“Fuck…”
“That too.”
“I’m in love.”
“No you’re not.”
Lance reached under the counter and slapped an oak plank on the bar top.
“Most bartenders keep a bat or a shotgun, not a paddle.”
“I’m not most bartenders.”
“I get that impression.” She glanced around at the empty room, the jukebox and television silent. “Are you even open?”
He didn’t answer right away; instead, he sauntered to the front door, locked it and then flicked the sign over to ‘closed’. Never looking away from her lazy smile, he came back, slid his butt on the stool next to her and drawled softly, “Not now.”
“So I see. Should I be worried?”
Lance smirked and set his elbow on the polished surface. “So? What’ll it be?”
She hefted the wood and tapped it on her palm. “You got experience with this thing?”
“Honey, I wrote the book on paddling.”
“Well, in that case, stud, I’ve a hankering for a shot or two of the best you got.”

Haylee Anna spun the stool around and hopped down onto the tacky floor. Her stiletto boots clacked as she sashayed over to the scarred pool table. The zipper made a loud rasp as her leather jacket came off to be tossed on the green felt. Her braless nipples pressed the thin tank top into puckered peaks. The heavy belt buckle clanked as she shimmied her boot cut jeans down over her hips. The red silk panty shone like a siren in the dim light. Slowly, she turned her back to Lance, and placing her hands on the soft surface, slid her palms forward until her waist touched the rail.

“Nice thong.”
“Thanks.”
“Nicer ass.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s not bare though.”
“Oh? You want a peek of my pink too?”
“That would be nice.”
“Well, a man’s gotta do what he promised. I guess you’ll just have to take ’em down nice and easy.”

Lance tucked the paddle under one arm, and hooked his thumbs into the strings at her hipbones. As he tugged the soft fabric, she arched her bottom and widened her stance. He left them tautly stretched between her muscular thighs.

“Think you can take fifty, sweet cheeks?”
“Think you can fuck for fifty minutes, honey buns?”

SMACK!

“Oh yeah, baby, give it to me nice and hard.”

SMACK!

“Fuck! I’ve missed this.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Damn, that burns like a thirty-year-old scotch.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Keep ’em coming barkeep, this girl needs a fire down below.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Halfway there, darling, you sure you can handle what I can dish out?”

SMACK! SMACK!

“Ain’t never been a man that can handle this chick.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“You can rev her up and ride her hard into the sunset, but she’ll out-fuck and out-drink you and then break your heart with a smile.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Good thing I don’t have one then.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Every man’s a mama’s boy inside. They can run their mouths longer than they can fuck a real woman.”

SMACK! SMACK!

“Sounds like a challenge.”

SMACK!

“You up for it?”

SMACK!

“Last one.”

SMACK!

“Got a condom? Or are you like most men, a whiny bitch afraid to cover her meat?”

Lance threw the paddle onto the pool table and unbuttoned his jeans. He ripped open the package and rolled the sheath over his cock. He grabbed her hips, pulling the flaming hot buttocks up to his waist probing for her opening.

“Hope you don’t need an instruction manual, cause if you don’t fuck my pussy better than you spanked my ass, I’m going to be really pissed.”
“I’m gonna shoot my eight-ball in your pocket, bitch, after I run your fucking table.”
“This, I gotta see. Give it your best shot, motherfucker, either way, I’m outta here in fifty-minutes.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 5)

After we cleaned—again—it was dinnertime. Louisa picked at her meal and went to her doom with a martyred expression. I was sent to the school wing on the third floor. Every weeknight, Mr. Steedstiff tutored portions of the female staff, the males seen to by Miss Frothinglips. As this marked the end of my second day, I spent the two hours giving answers to a variety of primers. I felt shame at my obvious ignorance of mathematics, geography, history and frankly, nearly every subject beyond reading comprehension and vocabulary. My penmanship was atrocious, attitude truculent. My bottom paid.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 4)

All that was holding me upright was Louisa’s tongue and Mrs. Cleanknocker’s hand. My climax buckled my knees, while thighs became soaked with desire. She stopped spanking my pussy and curled an arm around my waist. “Nooooo!” I moaned as Louisa gripped my nape devouring my tongue. “Yes, sweet Ruby, you owe me another spending.” Mrs. Cleanknockers rubbed my clit, gently as first, then firmer and faster, occasionally pinching, as my hips trembled uncontrollably. When I came this time, the emotions of the moment swept me into tears. Both of them cuddled me, stroking my damp skin until I calmed.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 3)

“One red, one white, naughty bottoms, will be spanked tonight.” We couldn’t help but giggle at Mrs. Cleanknockers cheeky poetry. She responded by cupping our dripping cunnies and sliding her middle fingers inside. She stirred our honeypots. My head went back and rested on her bosom. Lolling to the side, though slitted eyes, I was nose-to-nose with Louisa. Our nether lips parted by strong fingers, our mouths panted the sweetest cries until they met in a scalding kiss. “Good girls,” Mrs. Cleanknockers crooned. “Kiss and make up.” The calloused palm under my cunt began wetly smacking. I felt Louisa groan.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 2)

After I finished driving Louisa to orgasm, we tangled tongues, her intoxicating taste mingled in our mouths. While we were hazed with lust, we still retained some semblance of self-preservation, and resumed cleaning at lightning speed. Just before Mrs. Cleanknockers returned, we arranged for a clandestine rendezvous at bedtime so that I could soothe and pamper the aftereffects of her session with his lordship. I admitted I was curious to see the result of a good rogering. “Well, ladies? Are you quite finished messing about?” We replied in unison, “Yes, Mrs. Cleanknockers.” She stood behind us and squeezed our bottoms.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Flashback Friday: “Ask me once, ask me twice…”

“… and don’t spare the rod”

This week’s Flashback Friday, was orginally posted Oct 10th, 2009.

Anna could have simply asked for a spanking. Leo was, if anything, more than willing to indulge her passion for a sore bottom. But asking was too easy. So was dropping coy hints or licking frosting off a wooden spoon. Printed panties: not very subtle. So what did Anna decide?

Well, each day of the week had a special word. When Anna used that special word, Leo could spank her. To make things interesting, Leo only had thirty minutes to begin the spanking or else he forfeited the chance to spank Anna until the following day.

Anna took advantage of that twist by using the special spanking code word in the most inappropriate places. Having dinner with the in-laws, sitting in church, driving on the interstate just after passing a rest area, Anna was quite creative with her timing.

Leo however rose to the occasion every single time and Anna always had a red, sore bottom when returning to the dinner table, the church pew or the passenger seat of the car. The more awkward the timing, the harder Leo would spank. Anna’s ultimate goal was to be spanked in a place she was sure Leo couldn’t carry out the deed.

Turns out the captain of the aircraft was a spanko and when he asked for a vote over the intercom, the majority of the passengers wanted to see and hear Leo do the deed. Anna didn’t know the captain was a college frat buddy of Leo. It was a very long flight for Anna, four hours sitting, minus the thirty-minute spanking observed by all on the plane.

When she used the special code word the next day while sunning at the resort pool, Leo simply rolled her over and ‘touched’ up the parts he’d missed the day before. Her thong bikini matched the color perfectly. ‘Red Bottom Baby’ by Leo.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 (Part 1)

Gentle Reader: as I begin this chapter, I realize I have been remiss in providing physical descriptions of the personages populating my prose. This of course, is deliberate, thus allowing your imagination to supply features and characteristics. After all, large is another person’s small, and pheromones do not emanate from letters arranged on printed page. Perhaps you would prefer sexual and discipline scenes without extraneous folderol, but punishment sans context is simply brutality. Every spanking I relate at Peacock House was given for a reason. Memory is a wicked beast, insisting upon innocence, whilst robbing the vault behind our backs.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Nina’s five minutes are up

Last week for Wicked Wednesday, I wrote a short story about Nina and Ike. The last paragraph, the last sentence, sparked interest in wanting to know what happened after five minutes.

“I love you, Nina, no matter what, because I only want to do what is best for you. Whether I spank you or not, our marriage will be strong. Five minutes, Nina, but no more second thoughts.”

This week for Wicked Wednesday, here is one possible version of what happened next.

After Ike went up to their bedroom, Nina couldn’t sit back down, but paced as the minute hand swept inexorably towards the deadline. She felt like a daisy, petals plucked while chanting, ‘spank me, spank me not’. One foot after the other, hand on the railing, Nina drifted up the risers, carpet deadening her steps. The world narrowed to a tightly focused point that led to the end of the hall.

“Four minutes and fifty seconds. You are cutting it close.”

Nina opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She shivered and gripped her elbows tight to her chest, even though the room was comfortably warm. She stared down at the patterned throw rug, her open-toed sandal crumpling the weave into peaks and troughs. When she felt Ike place his hands on her shoulders and squeeze, a heavy throb began to beat between her thighs.

“I’m going to sit on the side of the bed, Nina. You will remove your leggings, and your top, but leave your bra and panties on… for now. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

The beat picked up speed. A cold wash tingled all over her body and her head shook as her muscles contracted. She watched impassively as her fingers wrapped the edge of her shirt and drew the garment up and over her torso. Long hair caught the neck-hole, a quick flick and she dropped her top. Thumbs nestled under hipbones and rolled the spandex band down. Her waist dipped, right knee came up, sandal kicked off, each leg pulled clear past heel one at a time.

“Over my lap, Nina, bottom up.”

Time slowed. She fancied she could see each second pass by as Ike’s voice deepened and drew out into elongated syllables. She climbed on the bed and crawled over his denim covered thighs. She started as his right hand touched her nape.

“Relax, Nina, I’m going to rub your back first.”

Oh so familiar hands kneaded tense shoulders and stroked in sweeping motions down to her waist. Her racing pulse eased and her breath steadied. Nina even purred when Ike undid her bra strap, then fondled each breast by cupping underneath to tweak the nipples. She finally settled down and relaxed when his hand ran from ankles to apex. She sighed when his fingers straightened her panties and his palm smoothed out the creases.

Right then, a strange feeling came over her as his broad hand rested on her upturned crowns. She felt safe and cherished.

“Five minutes, Nina.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Complete Chapter 4

As is customary, I am posting the entire 3,000 word chapter 4 of the Bumhampton Chronicles before diving into chapter 5. If you wish to read the first three chapters, I have created a page here with links to each complete chapter. Chapter 4 veered off in many different directions with various plot lines. Whether I continue all of them or only some, I will continue to post in 100-word drabbles. I only write a thousand words in advance, or roughly two weeks of drabbles, so I never really know what twists and turns the next segment will take. I wanted to take the time as well to thank all my loyal readers who have expressed such enthusiasm for The Bumhampton Chronicles.

Our heroine, the vivacious and impudent Ruby Slapumcheeks. His Lordship Caneshard of Lower Bumhampton, who runs a tight house with a whippy cane. Mrs. Cleanknockers, the housekeeper with a firm hand and a roving eye. Mr. Steedstiff, mysterious trainer of the female staff. Miss Frothinglips, the ward of Peacock House, proper upper class diction, with a talented mouth. Louisa Sweetcunny, fellow maid of discipline.

“Where did it go?” I repeated with avid astonishment worthy of a conjuror’s trick at a marketplace performance. I watched with wide eyes and slack jaw as Mr. Steedstiff’s glistening cock slowly reappeared from Louisa’s mouth. He paused with the head pursed by her lips, then slowly pressed forward once again. Mesmerized, I convulsively swallowed as his slender shaft gradually became shorter and shorter until her nose snuffled amongst his chestnut curlies. Mrs. Cleanknockers stepped around the saddle Louisa’s punishment postponed temporarily and stroked my scalp as if I were a favored hound or pantry mouser. “It’s called throating, Ruby.”

She firmly gripped the crown of my head and twisted it slightly so that my vantage point shifted to Louisa’s throat. “Note the bulge in her throat as his cock goes deep.” Under her hand I nodded. Enthralled as I was, I belatedly realized that this ‘throating’ was likely part of my upcoming training. The way Louisa’s eyes were watering and her mouth drooling, this did not appear to be an activity the female enjoyed. “Ma’am?” I began, forcing her hand off my head by turning my beseeching gaze upon her. “Will I…?” My thoughts were arrested by her expression.

Before it vanished like morning dew in the hot sun, for a brief moment, her face held a mixture of loathing, bitterness and anger directed at Mr. Steedstiff. From where I knelt I felt caught between two adversaries intent on besting one another in feats-of-arms. The moment passed and Mrs. Cleanknockers regained her typical hauteur. “To answer your impertinent question, Ruby, all girls must learn to throat their partners. I’m told men find cock swallowing to be amongst the Seven Wonders of the World.” Her bright voice held a brittle edge. “Isn’t that correct, Mr. Steedstiff.” He smirked and winked.

“I certainly enjoy it, Mrs. Cleanknockers, as you well know,” Mr. Steedstiff replied with an energetic thrust of his hips. Louise sputtered and tensed in her bondage. A particularly loud retch drew Mrs. Cleanknockers ire. “I see you have been neglecting your exercises, Louisa,” she barked at the hapless girl. “I will so inform his lordship of your inept performance.” Being as she couldn’t speak with a mouthful of cock, only I, in close proximity to the action, could see the distress on her visage. A pang of sympathy smote my conscience. Once more I rashly spoke out of turn.

“I’d like to try throating, ma’am. It looks like fun to me.” As an attempt to draw fire, my ill-advised witticism was wildly successful. Not so much my first attempt, although with practice, I did become good enough to earn grudging praise. That was months in the future, for now, I paid the price for my stupidity. Mrs. Cleanknockers grabbed my knotted hair and pulled back until I had an upside-down view of her stern face. “Dear, Ruby. Let me congratulate you on being the first girl I’ve ever trained to volunteer for cock sucking. I will grant your wish.”

Mrs. Cleanknockers released my hair with a contemptuous flick. “Mr. Steedstiff. You heard the young lady. I trust you capable of breaking this spirited filly to bridle?” His cock fell out of Louisa’s mouth with a loud ‘plop’ accompanied by much hacking and wheezing. I felt a bit stung by Mrs. Cleanknockers disdain and my pride rose to the occasion. Heedless of the treacherous currents that swirled between our two tormenters, I asked, “Mr. Steedstiff. I wish to learn the proper technique of throating. If you would be so kind as to instruct me, I would be ever so grateful.”

In my peripheral vision I could see Louisa’s disbelief: behind me a loud ‘harrumph’ from Mrs. Cleanknockers. I bravely opened my mouth and braced my palms on the floor for the coming assault. Soaked with Louisa’s saliva, his cock loomed large as his hands firmly gripped my nape. It seemed to have grown and I was hard-pressed to relax my jaw enough to allow entry. Mr. Steedstiff kept up a steady patter as he stroked in and out. “Mind the teeth. Stick out your tongue. Swallow. Fight your gag reflux.” That last was when I nearly cast up my accounts.

Try as I could, his cock would not enter my unwilling throat. He settled for a lengthy dissertation on the proper style of sucking complete with admonishments and exhortations. “Hollow your cheeks. Pucker up and blow. Suck and swallow. Waggle your tongue.” My jaw ached. I was very disappointed with my failure, doubly so when Mr. Steedstiff praised my efforts as being adequate for a first-timer. Mrs. Cleanknockers was not so forthcoming. “Ruby,” she snapped. “In the drawer with yellow tassel is a selection of India rubber dildos. While he finishes off inside Louisa’s throat you will practice with one.”

I dutifully retrieved the shortest and slenderest of the rubber dildos and resumed my kneeling position at Louisa’s head. “Observe the way it should be done, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers advised. We gagged in unison. I could only manage one failed attempt for every three deep thrusts she endured. My respect for her grew. I no longer cared about the piss-pot. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be admired. I wanted a husband who would enjoy having his cock sucked the correct way. As I coughed and spat on the floor, Mr. Steedstiff was now rapidly jabbing with short strokes.

Louisa’s lips pouted red around his cock. I noticed his breath labored in pants and huffs until his thighs suddenly went rigid. Mr. Steedstiff’s mouth hung open and his face twisted in a rictus akin to pain. Only the head of his cock remained inside her mouth. His shaft made pulsing motions along the length. He breathed out a long exhale of relief. “Do not swallow yet, Louisa,” Mrs. Cleanknockers ordered. “Ruby, as he withdraws, open your mouth and clean the seed off his cock, gently, men are so sensitive right after they spend.” I detected a whiff of sarcasm.

Gentle Reader: do not be alarmed by salacious sexual sceneries; be aroused, for surely I was every time in the Gun Room. There was pain of course, but that is part of life for everyone. To have the opportunity for pleasure, to revel in hedonistic congress – as my mentor Mrs. Cleanknockers would say – with hard cocks and wet cunts: those were truly marvelous days of innocent exploration. I do not want you to feel sorrow for the young girl I was, there was little else a poor orphan could expect, and his lordship truly had my best interests in mind.

Before Mr. Steedstiff departed, I was reminded of my place. He commanded Louisa to dribble his seed onto an ivory ball and then placed it in my mouth. A leather thong threaded through the bit was tied behind my head. He bridled Louisa next, she swallowed first, and I waited for instructions while his cloying scent coated my tongue. Mrs. Cleanknockers took a deep, shuddering breath when the door softly closed in his wake. I was convinced they disliked each other intensely. I could only hope to stay out of the crossfire. “Louisa, an appointment with the strap is next.”

“Ruby, remove your uniform and commence your cleaning duties.” This was my first time witnessing a punishment: both appalled and entranced, I tried to polish the knobs. Eventually though, I abandoned all pretense and sat on the floor behind Mrs. Cleanknockers. I had never realized how resilient the bottom was. Each time the oiled leather slammed onto Louisa’s buttocks; the impact compressed the flesh and sent ripples in every direction. Because she was gagged, only faint mews escaped her lips. I mewed in sympathy at a particular loud slap. That was the other thing: the noise was much louder watching.

The sting, the heat, the searing pain when being spanked, tended to draw attention away from the actual sound of punishment. Seeing the results up close, hearing each stroke, set off fireworks in my cunt. My hand slowly rubbed. Without turning her head, Mrs. Cleanknockers told me, “Ruby, if you don’t stop frigging your quim and get back to work, you’ll replace Louisa when I’m done with her.” That of course, only made things worse. I couldn’t come right out and state, ‘yes, please, yes, please’ although I am sure she knew what I desired. I wanted to be displayed.

It was not to be – not yet – and I reluctantly returned to my duties, difficult as that was. Somewhere around one hundred blows, the sudden absence of noise made my ears ring. I studiously scrubbed the baseboards: mere coincidence offered a clear view of Louisa’s red, plugged, mottled backside. Mrs. Cleanknockers yanked out the bottom stuffing horn with a swift tug and a toot. My eyes popped to mirror the gape revealed. The cunt horn was unlatched from the rod; though hard to tell from my perspective, she appeared to be wet from more than the oil. My pelvis clenched.

Mrs. Cleanknockers tossed the ivory plugs into a bucket along with the rubber phallus I’d been sucking. “Ruby, take a clean towel and wipe down Louisa’s hindquarters, front to back.” I mumbled around my gag and plucked a cloth off the shelf. While Mrs. Cleanknockers removed the many bindings, I rubbed and dried everywhere I could reach. Up close, the feminine scent was intoxicating. I wanted my tongue around the pink folds and drilled into the slack rear portal. I made a frustrated groan when Louisa slid sideways off the pommel. Her legs shook: her nails bit the soft surface.

Our ivory ball gags were removed and joined the other soiled objects in the bucket. I noticed Louisa’s breathing was loud and harsh, her eyes unfocused. The leather saddle was damp to the touch with her sweat. A knock on the door, it opened, and Miss Frothinglips sailed in as a clipper under full canvas. She ignored us both and whispered to Mrs. Cleanknockers. A sharp swivel of the head and her shoulders stiffened. With nary a backwards glance, Mrs. Cleanknockers strode out the door: Miss Frothinglips, after handing Louisa a clean uniform, followed swiftly. Left alone with my nemesis.

Louisa faced me with a blank face. “Thank you, Ruby, for trying to suck his cock. You didn’t have to.” I was stunned at her words and a bit wary. “Do you really mean that?” She smiled crookedly and instead of pulling on her dress, hung it off the highest drawer knob. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for what I did and for the punishment you received.” She bit her lip and continued. “I was jealous of the attention you were getting and Emily egged me into being stupid again.” I had to admit to being curious at this point.

“I take it you’ve pulled this sort of stunt before?” Before she explained, she took the bucket over to the sink. Hot running water was still a novelty to me. She used a bar of soap and scrubbed each item as she talked. Her background was not much different than mine. A pretty orphan, left to fend for herself, except with the de rigueur villainous cousin who sought to profit from her virginity. “How did you escape?” I wanted to know. “Lord Caneshard and Peacock House are well known in certain quarters. After overhearing, I packed a satchel and left.”

I busied myself wiping down the saddle then applying a fresh coat of oil. “Do you regret your decision, Louisa?” She stopped scrubbing. “I’ve been here ten months. The only thing I regret, Ruby, is being unable to stand up to Emily.” I draped the towel over the pommel and moved behind her. Tentatively, I rested my hand on her shoulder: she stiffened briefly. Her hands ceased washing. I tugged gently, asking without words for her to turn around. She did so, slowly, and kept her head lowered. I emulated Mrs. Cleanknockers and raised her chin. “I forgive you, Louisa.”

“If you’re willing to shift allegiance, Louisa, I’d like to be your friend.” Tears pricked her eyes. I gathered her in my arms, our breasts squashed together. She sobbed. Whether in relief, or delayed reaction to her punishment, I did not know. Without conscious volition, my hands slipped down her back and rested lightly on her hot buttocks. She hiccupped several times, but did not resist or pull away. I gently kneaded. She hissed softly. “Would you like me to apply some cream?” That clearly startled her. My fingers crept lower and teased open her hemispheres. Her eyes grew wider.

Louisa blushed and leaned in, her head rested on my collarbone. I reached down as far as I could, fingertips brushed her rosette, cupped her globes and rubbed lengthwise through her damp thighs. “We’re not supposed to do this, Ruby,” she confessed in a muffled whisper. “We’ll be soundly whipped if we’re caught.” I raised my palm and slapped her bottom. “Then we won’t get caught.” I moved swiftly then, not knowing how long we would be left alone. I pulled her away from the sink explaining what I planned. In case of a sudden return, I staged a tableau.

Louisa, with towel in hand, was braced on the saddle, bottom thrust out, legs spread wide. Me, on the floor, scrub brush and bucket nearby, cheerfully cleaned the aftermath of her punishment. The jar of ointment was hidden under used linen. I scooped a dollop in my palm and dabbed it onto her bottom. I pressed out and up deliberately: each stroke stretched her crack open. My lust built with each peek of her dual charms. I could no longer resist the temptation. “What are you doing, Ruby?” I swallowed hard. “I want to taste you, Louisa. Please say yes.”

Louisa gave a queer moan that sounded part fear and part passion. She dipped her back and rested her forehead on the saddle. A muffled ‘yes’ was all the permission I needed. Perhaps I was not quite so forgiving as I intended, for I was not gentle: although it was mostly lust that spurred me to be greedy in my exploration. I knew her bottom must have been painful, but I ignored her pained yips and forcefully spread her cheeks like an artichoke. Tilting my head back, I stuck out my tongue and swiped upwards across her opened red petals.

Her pussy was still wet inside, the soft opening yielded to my hunger. Seized by a desire to draw down a spending, I hunted for her button and upon locating the tender morsel, attempted to coordinate my lips and fingers to a pleasing harmony. She rocked as I worked, when I sensed her enthusiasm flagging, I pinched her sore bottom. “You will come for me, Louisa, or I will thrash you myself for disobedience.” That speech got a reaction, as her hand slipped down to join with mine. I let her take over her clit, and then her heated pussy.

I could not resist the temptation her red buttocks offered. “You owe me a spanking, Louisa, for this morning. Mrs. Cleanknockers humiliated me in front of the entire downstairs staff. I don’t know how I will face them at dinner.” Because she could not see me, I did not attempt to hide my sneaky grin. “I’m sorry, Ruby, that she beat you so publicly. I’m so sore already, please have mercy on me.” I slapped each dark cheek in turn with my hand as hard as I could. She shrieked and reached back, palm out to protect her sensitive skin.

“Keep rubbing your slutty cunt, you little tart!” I barked with feigned sternness. “I’m going to spank you because you deserve the punishment!” I retrieved a stout leather paddle and smacked all over her wagging bottom as I scolded her. “You should be ashamed to be so weak that you’d attack an innocent for someone else’s plot.” I was surprised to find genuine anger in my soul and I allowed a brief venting with extra hard blows of the paddle. To Louisa’s credit, she never ceased frigging through her tears and pleas. I soon stopped: puckered lips sought my target.

I dug my nails into her white crack and pulled wide, then wider still. The heat warmed my palms while I stared. Her clenched rose still appeared agape from her discipline session. My mouth, filled with her tart feminine crème, watered anew. Where this fascination with her bottom hole arose, I did not know, but I followed my desires and instincts in claiming it. From the very first lick, I was hooked. The taboo action had me shuddering and copiously weeping from my cunny. How I wished I had three hands. The rubbery texture rolled pleasingly beneath my nimble tongue.

I licked again at her anus. I tasted oil mostly with hints of earthy spice. I stretched my tongue out over my lower lip and pressed inwards. Louisa’s rosette gave way just enough to fire my imagination. I lapped and sucked, pretending I’d penetrated deep inside with forked intent. When I heard the interval between Louisa’s breathy pants grow shorter, I redoubled my efforts. I speared my tongue partly inside her rear and twirled while she clamped down as her orgasm neared. I surrendered to my passion, one hand raced across my clit and the other’s fingers entered her pussy.

As Louisa came, the strong contractions pushed my tongue out from her back passage: I sat back marveling at the sheer physicality of a female orgasm. Forgotten for the moment was my own pleasure as her pelvic muscles tensed and rippled. Fluid sprayed out from between her legs and soaked my arm. I reflexively tasted and licked off the excess cum. Even though the Gun Room was soundproofed, Louisa kept her passionate vocalizations to a mere murmur. In her place, I fancied I’d have screamed. Unbeknownst to me, my lungs would soon give a powerful demonstration to many interested parties.

Today being Valentine’s Day, why not choose something more fitting than flowers or chocolates. The Lust in Lace anthology is now available with my novella. In Byron Cane’s Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.

Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (30)

As Louisa came, the strong contractions pushed my tongue out from her back passage: I sat back marveling at the sheer physicality of a female orgasm. Forgotten for the moment was my own pleasure as her pelvic muscles tensed and rippled. Fluid sprayed out from between her legs and soaked my arm. I reflexively tasted and licked off the excess cum. Even though the Gun Room was soundproofed, Louisa kept her passionate vocalizations to a mere murmur. In her place, I fancied I’d have screamed. Unbeknownst to me, my lungs would soon give a powerful demonstration to many interested parties.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (29)

I licked again at her anus. I tasted oil mostly with hints of earthy spice. I stretched my tongue out over my lower lip and pressed inwards. Louisa’s rosette gave way just enough to fire my imagination. I lapped and sucked, pretending I’d penetrated deep inside with forked intent. When I heard the interval between Louisa’s breathy pants grow shorter, I redoubled my efforts. I speared my tongue partly inside her rear and twirled while she clamped down as her orgasm neared. I surrendered to my passion, one hand raced across my clit and the other’s fingers entered her pussy.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (28)

I dug my nails into her white crack and pulled wide, then wider still. The heat warmed my palms while I stared. Her clenched rose still appeared agape from her discipline session. My mouth, filled with her tart feminine crème, watered anew. Where this fascination with her bottom hole arose, I did not know, but I followed my desires and instincts in claiming it. From the very first lick, I was hooked. The taboo action had me shuddering and copiously weeping from my cunny. How I wished I had three hands. The rubbery texture rolled pleasingly beneath my nimble tongue.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Flashback Friday: “Is Spanking Sex?”

This week’s Flashback Friday was originally posted Sept. 30th, 2009. It’s one on my favorite stories.

Dear Paul,
I realize after fifteen years of marriage, this will come as a great surprise to you, but I have a favor to ask. When you get home from work today, please go upstairs to our bedroom. I’ll be waiting.
Love
Amanda

Paul found the note when he opened his case at the office. He almost rang her up, but then the day got hectic and although he didn’t actually forget the cryptic message, he fantasized about what favor she would request. Paul thought their sex life was adequate and they’d tried nearly everything at least once. Amanda had never voiced any complaints and seemed content. The drive home seemed shorter than usual and Paul fairly bounced up to the master suite. To find, a very ‘great surprise’.

Picture a husband opening the bedroom door expecting to see his wife in say… slinky lingerie, maybe one of his button-down shirts, a mask, a lacy thong, anything within the ordinary. What Paul saw was Amanda, a nude Amanda bent face down over the footboard whilst kneeling on bolsters, thus placing her wide bottom uppermost. Her torso supported by pillows allowing her breasts to brush the bedspread with her hard nipples. Legs were lightly spread open at the calves, just enough to trap a pair of bright red panties. Resting in the small of his wife’s back was a medium size paddle – appeared to be leather – and underneath the paddle, another note.

Dear Paul,
As you may have guessed – you are a very smart man – your wife needs a favor. I want you to spank me. With your hand, this leather paddle I bought online and anything else you may decide to utilize. Before you say anything to me, please, as your loving partner of fifteen years, I ask you spank me once with your hand for each of those wonderful years. After that, I will answer the burning questions I know you have.
Love
Amanda

Paul smiled wryly and stood to the left of his kneeling wife. He raised his hand and gave a tentative smack. There was no reaction from Amanda, so he spanked her again and again. Moving from cheek to cheek it was only a matter of some seconds to spank her fifteen times. So light were his spanks her bottom was unmarked.
“So, Amanda, what brought this on?”

Amanda remained in her prone position and answered her husband’s question without turning her head to see his expression. “I’ve been reading about spanking recently and more specifically about spanking in marriages.”
“And you decided it was something to try?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fair enough. But you do understand my trepidation?”
“Yes, sir. I do. I know it must seem very strange to you to spank me, a woman who deals with domestic violence on a daily basis at the shelter. It’s very hard to explain my feelings Paul, but bending over like this, knowing you can see everything and can take me in whichever hole you choose, is very, very arousing to me.”
“Interesting. So spanking is… foreplay?”
“I think so. Certainly the knowledge you’d be home tonight and see me like this has had me on edge for weeks. I thought about how it would feel and rather than spank myself, I wanted to give you the first whack so to speak.”
“So how many whacks and how hard and what exactly do you expect from me?”
“Can we take it slow? Maybe spank me for a minute and then see how it feels?”

Paul took her at her word and spanked her for a minute. Amanda’s bottom was now the faintest hint of pink, but she was frustrated at how tender Paul was being with his blows.

“Paul? You can spank me much harder. I promise I won’t be upset with you. Please?”

Paul hesitated for a moment. This was the woman who adamantly refused to ‘obey’ in the wedding vows. Who kept her name and had separate bank accounts. The woman who marched in every protest: who worked for Hillary Clinton in the campaign. He was having a hard time reconciling that woman with the one draped over the king size bed.

“OK, honey. Here’s another minute spanking you harder.”

This time the sound clearly echoed off the walls as Paul laid into his wife’s quivering bottom with gusto. He figured if he spanked her hard enough, she’d change her mind and they could get on with sex. The last twenty seconds were a barrage of spanks as hard and as fast as he could make them.

When he stopped, he rubbed his hand over her blushing cheeks, the redness now brighter and he was surprised to feel how warm the flesh had become. Amanda crooned as his hand explored her bottom and she arched even higher, waggling her hips to entice his hand lower. When Paul dipped into her crevice and underneath, he was shocked to find her dripping wet. A simple touch to her open slit had her groaning and Paul was all set to strip down and plunge in deep from behind.

“Please wait, sir. I need more. The paddle, use the paddle.”

The pleading tone in Amanda’s voice was something he’d not heard in years and picking up the paddle and rubbing it across her bottom had Amanda moaning in anticipation. Paul raised the paddle and bounced it off one cheek.

“Harder.”

Another blow to the other cheek followed.

“Again.”

Paul continued, sometimes fast and sometimes, long pauses between blows. He watched utterly fascinated as Amanda’s hips gyrated in wide circles. She thrust her hips up so high he could clearly see the dampness on her upper thighs and the pulsing of her anus. She urged him on to paddle her harder with pleas and sighs until her bottom was a bright, even red.

She whimpered when he stopped, complaining until he rammed his rock hard cock all the way to her cervix. His pelvis slapped her sore bottom and she screamed out her first orgasm. He grabbed her waist pulling her back and forth violently using her sopping cunt to fuck his cock. As they fucked, the redness on her bottom was a beacon and Paul, seized by the moment, suddenly pulled out and began spanking Amanda again with his hand. She squealed and raised herself up on her arms, moving her bottom back to meet the blows.

“Use the paddle again, Paul. Use it between my cheeks. Please!!!!”

She collapsed on her face, reaching back to spread her hot bottom as wide as she could. There was just enough room between her fingers for Paul to use the handle on her crack. He carefully smacked her and she screamed.

“Oh that stings!”
“Do you want another?”
“Yes, sir! Right on my naughty butt-hole!”

Paul raised an eyebrow but spanked her sharply on her naughty butt-hole. He wondered if his wife would treat him to some anal next and he was quite happy when after ten stinging blows to Amanda’s anus, she wanted more.

“Oh, Paul. My butt-hole is numb and feels so tender. Fuck it. Fuck my ass! Punish that naughty ass for being a slutty girl.”

Paul fucked her pussy first for some lubrication and when he tried in insert a wet finger or two, Amanda stopped him.

“Just ram your cock into my ass, Paul. Make it hurt!”

Her rectum was so tight and hot it was impossible to ram in, but steady pressure with a single thrust had Paul buried to his balls in Amanda’s ass. The tightness, her crying with the pain, the heat of her spanked bottom all combined to have Paul unloading within minutes.

Amanda’s fingers were a blur as she rubbed her clit and came after Paul was softening in her sore ass.

Later when they had cleaned up and had dinner, Amanda and Paul talked late into the night. Amanda made it very clear that for her, spanking was a sexual act and she had no desire to have a disciplined marriage. If you are ever in the mood, Paul, put me over your knee, pull down my panties and spank my bottom until I demand to deep throat your cock.

“You mean like this?”

Once more the echoes of spanks and a pleasured woman filled the bedroom.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (27)

“Keep rubbing your slutty cunt, you little tart!” I barked with feigned sternness. “I’m going to spank you because you deserve the punishment!” I retrieved a stout leather paddle and smacked all over her wagging bottom as I scolded her. “You should be ashamed to be so weak that you’d attack an innocent for someone else’s plot.” I was surprised to find genuine anger in my soul and I allowed a brief venting with extra hard blows of the paddle. To Louisa’s credit, she never ceased frigging through her tears and pleas. I soon stopped: puckered lips sought my target.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

There is no one right path

Nina squirmed restlessly in Ike’s arms. They were cuddling on the couch, on the screened in front porch, watching the vibrant sunset and listening to the frogs serenading the approaching night. Ever since she made her reflexive decision, she was having second thoughts.

She felt her husband tighten his grip: normally something she welcomed because it made her feel safe, tonight the embrace ratcheted up her irritation. She tapped his forearm and when he didn’t respond, spoke up.
“Honey, you’re choking me.”
“Sorry, Nina, I thought you wanted more.”
Nina hated, hated the whiny tone in her voice, but sometimes, it just burst out. “Just let me go, I’m not feeling well.”

She bolted inside, the panic causing her skin to flush with cold shivers and the lightheadedness left her grabbing the kitchen table for support. When the screen door closed a second time and she heard Ike’s footsteps, his large hands on her shoulders led to instant tears.

Before she could react, she was sitting sideways on his lap, her face buried in his chest, and clutching his shirt with clenched fists. The cotton polo quickly became wet as Nina sobbed.

“It’s okay, baby, let it out, I’m here for you.”

Nina heard the soothing words and felt the soft strokes on her hair. The random kisses on her crown, the pats on the backs accompanied by gentle swirls helped to ease the confusion. She slowly regained control. The whispered ‘thanks’ when a box of tissues was offered was tinged with shame.

“Sorry, am I too heavy for you?”
“No, Nina, you’re never too heavy for me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She picked at the logo, her cheek nestled below his collarbone. “I don’t know what I want, Ike, I thought I did, but now…”
“But now?”
She tilted her head back to look at his face. “Why can’t I make up my mind? Why is this so difficult?”
“Ahhhh. Having second thoughts?”
She gave a little puffy snort. “More like fifth and sixth thoughts. The more I learn about it, the more confused I get. It seemed so simple when we found out what Jose and Aiko were doing, maybe my reaction wasn’t disgust after all, but jealousy. When I said there was no way I’ve ever let you spank me, I thought I was making the right choice for me.”
Nina watched as her husband nodded with his thoughtful expression that always preceded a complex and convoluted explanation. She tensed involuntarily, a lecture was not what she needed right now.
Instead, he patted her thighs and said, “Get up.”
She popped off his lap and finished wiping her face.
“I think you do know what you want, Nina. I’m going upstairs now, I’ll give you five minutes to join me. If you do, then the decision is made.”
His kiss was firm without being demanding. His fingers cupping her chin were strong without being overbearing. His eyes were stern without being frightening. “I love you, Nina, no matter what, because I only want to do what is best for you. Whether I spank you or not, our marriage will be strong. Five minutes, Nina, but no more second thoughts.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (26)

I could not resist the temptation her red buttocks offered. “You owe me a spanking, Louisa, for this morning. Mrs. Cleanknockers humiliated me in front of the entire downstairs staff. I don’t know how I will face them at dinner.” Because she could not see me, I did not attempt to hide my sneaky grin. “I’m sorry, Ruby, that she beat you so publicly. I’m so sore already, please have mercy on me.” I slapped each dark cheek in turn with my hand as hard as I could. She shrieked and reached back, palm out to protect her sensitive skin.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (25)

Her pussy was still wet inside, the soft opening yielded to my hunger. Seized by a desire to draw down a spending, I hunted for her button and upon locating the tender morsel, attempted to coordinate my lips and fingers to a pleasing harmony. She rocked as I worked, when I sensed her enthusiasm flagging, I pinched her sore bottom. “You will come for me, Louisa, or I will thrash you myself for disobedience.” That speech got a reaction, as her hand slipped down to join with mine. I let her take over her clit, and then her heated pussy.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (24)

Louisa gave a queer moan that sounded part fear and part passion. She dipped her back and rested her forehead on the saddle. A muffled ‘yes’ was all the permission I needed. Perhaps I was not quite so forgiving as I intended, for I was not gentle: although it was mostly lust that spurred me to be greedy in my exploration. I knew her bottom must have been painful, but I ignored her pained yips and forcefully spread her cheeks like an artichoke. Tilting my head back, I stuck out my tongue and swiped upwards across her opened red petals.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (23)

Louisa, with towel in hand, was braced on the saddle, bottom thrust out, legs spread wide. Me, on the floor, scrub brush and bucket nearby, cheerfully cleaned the aftermath of her punishment. The jar of ointment was hidden under used linen. I scooped a dollop in my palm and dabbed it onto her bottom. I pressed out and up deliberately: each stroke stretched her crack open. My lust built with each peek of her dual charms. I could no longer resist the temptation. “What are you doing, Ruby?” I swallowed hard. “I want to taste you, Louisa. Please say yes.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Flashback Friday: “Discipline is needed”

Originally posted Sept. 28th, 2009 here.

Willing reluctant feet to move, she raised a quivering hand to rap on the sturdy oak door. The gruff ‘Enter!’ nearly sent her fleeing back to her room. Reluctantly she opened the door, sweaty hands clutching the document. Seating behind his desk, her father raised an eyebrow at his twenty-year old daughter’s attire. Dressed as a schoolgirl, pleated skirt, crisp blouse and his regimental tie she appeared much younger and very nervous.
“Good morning, Sir.”
Confused, her father said, “Since when am I, ‘Sir’, to you, Princess?”
Before she completely lost her nerve, his trembling daughter confessed her innermost desires.
“You never spanked me as a child, Sir, and I appreciate your compassion and understanding of my willful ways. It would have been easy to punish me with blows. I know I deserved a good thrashing on many occasions. I also know you spank mother and have for as long as I can remember.”
Her father stirred uncomfortably in his leather chair, the conversation taking a disturbing turn. He was about to dismiss his clearly overwrought daughter when the door swung open to reveal his smiling wife.
“Have you told him yet, darling?”
Her daughter shook her head, but with courage bolstered by her mother’s support, continued.
“You told me, Sir, when I reached the age of twenty I could ask for any single thing of you and if it was within your power, you would grant my boon. This document I have in my hand is my latest Uni transcript.”
Her father read the paper, all top marks and glowing reviews.
“I fail to see any grounds for discipline, Princess. I am very, very proud of you.”
His daughter basked in his love and praise. She felt her mother squeeze her hand in support.
“I thank you, Sir. I thank you both for raising me to be the young woman I am today. My boon, Sir, is that you teach me to be as my mother. I wish to submit to my husband and have the marriage of respect you share. As a reward for my marks I crave you give me six of the best and begin my journey into adulthood.”
He stood, paced round to the two most important women in his life; kissed his wife soundly on the mouth and his daughter on her brow.
“I would be honored, Princess, to guide you into proper submission. We both are honored you have chosen your parents as your role models. Assume the position, Princess, raise your skirt and lower your knickers to your knees. You will receive six of the best with your mother’s own special cane and you will count and thank me for each and every one.”
She complied, no longer nervous, no longer a child, but poised on the cusp of her new life as a contented and taken woman.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (22)

Louisa blushed and leaned in, her head rested on my collarbone. I reached down as far as I could, fingertips brushed her rosette, cupped her globes and rubbed lengthwise through her damp thighs. “We’re not supposed to do this, Ruby,” she confessed in a muffled whisper. “We’ll be soundly whipped if we’re caught.” I raised my palm and slapped her bottom. “Then we won’t get caught.” I moved swiftly then, not knowing how long we would be left alone. I pulled her away from the sink explaining what I planned. In case of a sudden return, I staged a tableau.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

“A Disciplined Model”

“S’il vous plaît, Renée, be still and do not smile!”
“I am trying, Pierre, but my arm is asleep!”
“A few more minutes, I must capture your face before the light fades.”
“That’s what you said a half an hour ago!”
“I knew I should have hired Angelique for this commission.”
“Angelique! She is but a common whore.”
“She does not pout, Renée! She is obedient and demure as a model should be!”
“Does she suck you off? Are her titons as big as mine?”
“Titons?”
“Yes, my bosom, you cretin. Do you not like them when I shake my shoulders?”
“The word is les tétons, mademoiselle, and you must be STILL!”
“Bah, Pierre, you are no more French than I am, no one cares.”
“Except my clients, who incidentally, allow me to pay you.”
“Rich and stupid Americans, here for their Grand Tour and forged antiques.”
“And the Exposition of 1900 as well, don’t forget.”
“Oh yes, the wonders of progress designed to fleece the workers of hard earned francs.”
“Don’t roll your eyes!”
“How about my hips instead?”
“That’s it, Renée! You’re an incorrigible brat! Angelique will replace you.”
“No, Pierre! I am sorry. Do not dismiss me. I’ll behave, I promise.”
“It’s too late. Get dressed and get out. We’re through.”
“Please, monsieur, give me another chance. See? You like my bottom.”
“So?”
“So. I’ve been very naughty. I deserve a good whipping, not dismissal.”
“I don’t care.”
“Please, Pierre. I am bent over for you. You can see everything. I don’t mind.”
If, I whip you, Renée, that is only a small down payment for my wasted time.”
“Yes, yes, I agree, punish me, Pierre, make me behave.”
“What shall I use? I must not damage my hands.”
“Do you still have the props?”
“Of course! The martinet is even properly French. Here it is.”
“Hurry, Pierre. I feel very excited and wet for you.”
“Who’s the whore now?”
“I am, Pierre. I am your whore. Whip me. Beat me. Use me hard!”
“Like that, you slut? And that? Across your broad, naked rump like that, you brazen hussy.”
“Oui! Oui! I am nothing but a wanton for you! Harder, Pierre, do it harder!”
“I should have flogged you the first time you caused trouble.”
“Oui! Harder, faster. Let me feel the leather thongs rake my naughty arse.”
“I suppose I should whip you before every session as a reminder.”
“Oui, Pierre! Every day and every night, make me red and striped.”
“The red lines on your dusky skin are so striking.”
“Oh, like that, and again, and again, I am getting so close.”
“Careful of your fingers in your pussy, I don’t want to strike them.”
“Then strike my wicked pussy instead! Swing up from below.”
“Like that?”
“OUI! Oh mon Dieu, do it again!”
“I didn’t know whipping there was even possible.”
“I’m coming!”
“So I see, Renée. A few more blows there, and there, and there.”
“Fuck me, Pierre! My pussy hurts, I want it to hurt even more.”
“Later.”
“Later? I must have your cock now!”
“Don’t move, Renée. The sun angle highlights all your red stripes. I must paint quickly.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

  • Corrupted

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  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

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  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    In Byron Cane's Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel